


Escorting Miss Resonator (One-shot)

by YourLovelyMajesty



Category: Gears of War (Video Games), Gears of War - Fandom
Genre: Action, Adventure, Gen, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLovelyMajesty/pseuds/YourLovelyMajesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(In which I attempt a first-person-present POV.) Set during GoW1. Alpha is in charge of seeing the Sonic Resonator into grub territory. What challenges did they face before Delta squad could make it to the scene? Rated for strong language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escorting Miss Resonator (One-shot)

Rojas is a barrel of monkeys today. Actually, his attitude had been annoying me for the last week. He got time off for his son's birthday and that's all he's talked about since. How Command can afford anyone time off these days is a mystery to me, but hey, I'm not the one in charge. I can't complain, just follow orders like a good dog. Am I still bitter about being demoted back to private for the third time? Maybe. But who could be happy with Sergeant Jan Rojas chattering away as if we weren't walking toward our death?

Command assigned us with some hunk of junk they called the Sonic Resonator. They said it could map the tunnels the Locust made so we could easily find their hive and end this war. Ha, as if I haven't heard that one before. I guess our greatest minds dealt with its conception, but I'm not sold. Sera's huge and the grubs made a point to pop up everywhere—unless the resonator can travel, I doubt it can find even half the tunnels. Hell, we have no idea how deep they are, either. For all we know, the grubs live at Sera's core. Yeah, definitely don't want to take this war underground.

"And then he grabs his blanket and—"

"We get it, man." I interrupt Rojas's retelling of the birthday party for the millionth time. "Your kid is frigging adorable. Can we talk about something else now? Something less happy?"

I hate happy talk, especially in Ephyra. The place is a ghost town now and it feels rude to ignore that. Most of the civilians that lived here were evacuated and still alive, so the city wasn't a mass grave like others, but I never remember the streets being this wide or long; it used to be bustling with activity, claustrophobic even.

"I thought you wouldn't bitch as much if I let you carry the machinery, Baird," he says, barely glancing my way. I'm stuck in the middle of our group with Rojas and Gyules leading, and Cole covering our flank. We're like a family of ducks, if the mommy and daddy had guns and the babies carried a top secret piece of scrap metal.

"Damon's just getting antsy, sir," Cole replies. "Why don't you let me carry the resonator for a while? Come on, give ol' Cole Train the baby."

Cole had already slung his rifle onto his back before I could protest. He knew—in that strange way that Cole knows me—that I wanted to have a gun in my hands. The resonator isn't heavy, just awkward to hold. You can't carry it and a gun, which means you're defenseless. I trust Cole enough to cover my back and he trusts me, so I don't fight him over the resonator. I hand the hunk of junk to him, pull out my Lancer, and fall back so he's between Rojas and me.

Truth is, I can't stand when Cole butts into my battles—okay, they're not actually battles, and if he hadn't come to my rescue once upon a time, I'd probably be in a coma. Still, there were times I'd rather tell someone—like Rojas—to jump off a bridge than have Cole interrupt. I'm lucky he does, though, because he saves me from my mouth. Yeah, I know I have a problem. I like to talk when I'm nervous, okay? Sometimes I just don't know when to shut up, and that's what gets me in trouble.

"We're almost to Embry Square, right?" Cole asks.

"One more street," Gyules says. "Man, has anyone made it to Embry Square in less than twenty minutes?"

"Nah, traffic was always a bitch in this part of town. I remember sitting in a jam for an hour back in the day. We're setting Tyran history, baby!"

"Yeah, anyone would be jealous to walk down State Street in broad daylight. Especially going toward grub territory," I spat. "Perfect targets."

"Relax, Baird. The Locust shouldn't be this far into the city," Rojas replies. "We've got several miles of clearance until we're knocking on their door."

"Seriously. Have you ever heard the city this quiet? It's still, unnatural. The grubs got Ephyra four years ago—"

"But we're pushing them back."

"And who's to say they're not hanging around here? I don't claim to be an expert, but when something doesn't feel right to me, it's not right. We need to drop the resonator in a hole and get the fuck out of here."

"Scared of a few grubs? We have our orders, Private. The COG nation is depending on us to—" He shuts up the same time he holds up his hand. The tense calm of our group dissipates to strained quiet. I'm not breathing yet I still can't hear anything. He motions us to wait and I turn my attention to our flank as he scouts ahead. I knew something wasn't right. My intuition was perfectly tuned to keep me alive. Years of practice.

I press into the building at my back, surveying the broken street we just came from. Grubs could be crawling in the alleyways. Wretches could be on the rooftops. Snipers, even. Shit. I look up but I can't see the tell-tale glint of a scope. Nothing's moving out there.

The steady pounding of boots announces Rojas's return. COG armor definitely isn't made for stealth. "We've got grubs up ahead," he says, and I'm happy to hear the surprise in his voice. _I told you so, asshole._ "I can't tell how many, but they have patrols in Embry Square. They're crawling around the pavilion like hornets."

"Dammit! They weren't supposed to get this far." Gyules throws his hands up. "We can't take them. We're almost out of ammo."

Rojas touches the tac-com in his ear, opening the comm channel, as he peers around the building's edge. "Control, this is Alpha. We're on State Street outside of Embry Square. Grubs have the ground, but we're low on ammo. Please advise."

I always have my comm set to receive-only since Command wouldn't allow me to turn it off. I hate radio chatter. But it's strangely comforting when Lieutenant Stroud's calm voice replies, "Do not engage, Alpha. The resonator is still your top priority. We'll send reinforcements ASAP, but avoid the Locust for now. Continue through on—" The transmission hisses before dying completely. I glance at Cole with unease.

"Great. Seeders must be in the area," Rojas growls.

"What do we do now, sir?" Cole asks. "If we're getting some back-up, should we wait here?"

Rojas closes his eyes. He's trying to think but he doesn't get my vote of confidence. He has a way of walking into FUBAR situations and he can't think on the fly.

"Do you think we can make it to the Tomb?" I ask. The Tomb of the Unknowns wasn't far from the square. If we double back and head onto First Street, we could avoid Embry Square completely.

"That could work. It might be far enough from Seeder activity that we can hole up there and try to radio for directions. Cole, give the resonator back to Baird."

"What? I should be on point, not hauling that thing again!"

"I want your eyes and ears sharp, Private, not focusing on a trigger. You're our resident Locust expert, right? So do your job."

I take the resonator from Cole's hands with a scowl. At least Rojas understood that I'm our best bet to get out alive, but that meant I should be leading our squad. We're in grub infested streets now; I have as much experience as Rojas, I can make tough decisions when I have to, so why did he get a promotion? He didn't think things through. I tell him we should head back to First Street, but in typical Sergeant Jan Rojas fashion, he decides we can skate through on Cross Road. Going in a large circle to avoid the square is about the only way we'll avoid a confrontation with the grubs—what does our fearless leader decide? To stay one street away.

We're fucked.

I follow Rojas because I have to, not because I want to. I like the guy and all, but sometimes he can be dense. Yeah, we have orders for a suicide mission, but that didn't mean we actually had to die in the process. Some people made it out alive. Barely, but it happened. If I was leading this train wreck, none of this would be happening.

My grip on the resonator tightens as we circle behind the large stone pavilion. Embry Square was _the_ place to be, pre-E-Day. Everyone wanted a tour of the square where ceremonies were held for the COG's bravest, of the House of Sovereigns where assholes like Prescott made life-altering decisions—even the Tomb of the Unknowns was technically a country club for Pendulum War vets.

Now it was a shadow. Decaying, broken—chipping away like the human race. The once proud buildings and statues that we worked so hard to build and maintain meant jackshit now.

As we leave the pavilion behind, I swear I can feel crosshairs on my back. I know Cole is keeping a close eye on our tail but grubs have good eyesight. Near, far, daylight, whatever—they can see just about anything. It's strange because they're a subterranean species; they should be blind.

Rojas leads us down an alley, but not before a gurgling cry is raised behind us.

"Groundwalkers!"

Cole and I duck into the alley as a shot whizzes past. Is it only a warning or would they follow us? I didn't know grubs to track anyone, but there's always a first time for everything. Especially if they spotted the resonator. They'd want to know what kind of tech we're toting.

Cole's ready to return fire when Rojas barks, "Don't engage!"

"We should deal with them now," I argue. "If they don't follow us, something's up. More of their ugly friends could be waiting at the Tomb."

"Or they could be a single group. I'm not going to waste our ammo on just a few drones. Now let's go."

He doesn't understand the grub mind like I do. Locust don't collect small territories in the middle of nowhere. They strike somewhere big and then branch out for other areas, places they can easily control. I almost throw the resonator down to deal with the scaly bastards, but Rojas has no problem leaving me for dead.

Cole slaps my back as we move. "We're almost there. Don't worry, I've got your back; I'll let you know if anyone tries to join our party."

We survived two more streets until Cole was eating those words.

The Tomb is crawling with grubs, way more than Embry Square had. They ran patrols from each end and had somehow mounted troikas near the entrance. We have to get through them but Rojas isn't offering any bright ideas. He tries to raise Control, but with Seeders active, we won't hear anything from them for a long time. Well, this is perfect.

Rojas turns to me with a determination I'm not sure I've seen in him before. "Hold your ammo, Baird. Gyules, Cole, and I will take care of them. I want you to keep the resonator safe and only shoot when you absolutely have to."

"Whoa, hold on," I say, grabbing his shoulder before he can walk away. "You want me to sit here and pretend nothing's about to happen?"

"Let me put this in a way you'll understand: If you let the resonator out of your sight, you'll be lucky to see tomorrow."

He motions to the other men and they disappear around the corner. The gunfire starts immediately. It's loud, obnoxious at this range, and stray bullets fly past my "hiding" spot. There are times I like Rojas and then there are times when he pisses me off. I hear Cole's desperate enthusiasm over the roar. I should be out there. I look down at the hunk of metal in my hands. I've dreamed of excuses not to fight; today was the day when I could finally sit out and let my teammates do all the work.

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I tighten my grip until the strange angles of the resonator dig through my gloves. "Fuck that." I drop it, pull the Lancer from my back, and charge into the fray.

The grubs had set up blockades and sandbags, and Cole's currently ducking behind one. I hit cover beside him and he laughs. "Where's the baby?"

"Threw it in a dumpster," I reply as gunfire sounds over my head. "Where's Rojas and Gyules?"

"Moving up. They're trying to get around the troika."

I peek over the top and see the blue shine of the COG armor; it's hard to miss in an ocean of gray bodies and blood. The troika gunner zeroes in on me and I slide down until I'm sure every strand of hair is safe as bullets pound into the cement of the barrier. At least it gave Rojas the distraction he needed; with a pop, the grub yelps and the shooting stops.

"Clear!" Gyules calls.

Damn.

"You couldn't save one for me?" I ask, crawling over the barrier.

"Where's the resonator, Baird?" Rojas demands. I can tell he's hoping to pin me with his glare, but he had never mastered the "intimidating bad-ass" look like some men. He might be my sergeant but I'm not afraid of him, just pissed.

"I'll get it in a second. Be serious with me, Rojas. You didn't expect me to sit back while you guys fought off the grubs, did you? I'm a jackass, not a dick. I fight with my squad."

"It's true. Baird might seem heartless," Cole laughs, "but he's just a lovable teddy bear."

"Yeah, yeah. Cuddly and full of fluff—that kind of shit," I call as I jog for the alley. I grab the resonator and heft it back across the road. "See? Perfectly fine and grub-free. The way we like our tech."

Rojas looks doubtful but motions us inside. He and Gyules secure the front room before Cole closes us in. I've never been in the tourist trap because I had always been against the war. While my parents supported every decisions of Dalyell's, I was busy avoiding fights in school and trying to use my genius for good. That didn't get very far.

The front room was large, cavernous, and reeked of history. The poorly boarded windows did nothing to illuminate all the space. I set the resonator by the door, glad to be done with it for a while, as Rojas tried again to raise Control.

"Control, this is Alpha, do you copy? We are in the Tomb. Control, come in."

"Give it up, man. Seeders are obviously still in the area. Walking two blocks doesn't change that." I sigh.

"Then we'll find them and take them down."

"Oh, great idea, Sarge. Hope you have a Hammer shoved up your ass, because I sure as hell don't!"

Cole positions himself between us. "Whoa, gentlemen, let's all just take a deep breath now." He's always good at diffusing tension, but I didn't feel like goading Rojas anymore, so I let him win for now. "Sir, we can do some scouting. The Seeders can't be too far. Find some Nemacyst, find some Seeders. Piece of cake for us, right, Alpha?"

Rojas nods as he paces. "Good idea. Cole, you suggested it, so you're with me. Baird, Gyules, if you let the resonator out of your sight before we're back—"

"Yeah, yeah. I heard this one before. Go do your little spy thing," I say, shrugging as I sit beside the hunk of metal, leaning my arm across it. "Not like we're going anywhere."

They leave from the main entrance and the brief sunlight is enough to highlight the destruction inside. It looks like it had been ransacked; from Stranded or Locust, I can't tell.

Minutes pass. I enjoy the ache of silence. It rings hollow in my ears without my squadmates or Control's chatter. Maybe I can finally enjoy some peace and quiet.

I rest my head against the door and close my eyes, ready for a five minute nap, but something gnaws at my mind. The marks on the wall across from me—something wasn't quite right. I open my eyes to stare at the wall across from me, hidden by the shadows. I know what I saw.

"We might have Wretches in here," I tell Gyules.

He jumps and tightens his grip on his rifle. "Are you serious?"

"It's a well-educated guess, don't freak out. The walls show signs of unnatural distress, like something's been clawing at it. I'm sure they've moved on when they couldn't find . . . I don't know, whatever grubs eat."

Shadows pass on the ground. I hiss at Gyules to duck and then crawl to the nearest window. Shit, this is the _last_ thing we need.

Between the boards I see grubs, just a few, but enough to make me uncomfortable. They stop now and then to check their dead. Was the Tomb yet another checkpoint to something larger, or were they the friends from the square?

The ground shifts beneath my knees and I pull up my Lancer. I'm ready for the floor to open and spit up grubs, but as the tremors pass, I realize they're outside.

"Gyules," I whisper. "We've got reinforcements. How much ammo do you have?"

"Two clips," he whimpers from the floor. Gyules always had a weak spine—one reason I hate working with him.

"I've got three—that's two thousand-something rounds. We might be able to hold them off."

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him crawl to the window on the opposite side of the door. He takes position.

"Dammit, Gyules, wait!" I hiss.

He ducks and I listen to his pathetic panting as I watch the grubs. They spread out and start to rebuild their fortifications, so that means they definitely plan to keep this location. They don't even know we're here, but Cole and Rojas surely felt the emergence hole—they had to be on their way back. God, I hoped not. They'd be walking into a trap.

A grub approaches the troika by my window. I duck and try to move as quietly as I can away from the light. How good is their sense of smell? My hand hits against cold metal, budging it barely an inch, but the sound is like an explosion in the silence. I freeze, holding my breath. A shadow looms over the window. _Shit, shit, shit. Go away. Stupid piece of junk is going to get me killed._

Gyules loads a round. The click echoes.

"Inside!" The shadow disappears only to be replaced by a flurry of bullets. I drop to my stomach and cover my head as glass rains in.

Gyules immediately returns fire. For a moment, the noise stuns me. I thought we might get lucky—no, this is real life, and luck doesn't exist for me. I brush the glass from my hair, pull myself away from the window, and move the fucking resonator away from the door before I grab my Lancer.

"When we get out of this alive, Gyules," I yell over the gunfire, "remind me to skin you!"

I take cover by the broken window and peer around the edge. More grubs were crawling from the hole; they marched over their dead as if they didn't exist. Reminding me how barbaric and disgusting they are.

I fire through the chipping boards into the nearest group of grubs. "Cole, Rojas—you better bring back some damn good support!"

This resonator better be worth it, and if Control doesn't supply a super squad to finish this escort, then I'm dumping this piece of junk down that grubhole and ditching this job. That is, if I don't end up as swiss cheese. Gyules is decent support when he's not alerting grubs to our location, but where's the indestructible Cole Train when I need him?


End file.
